Layers
by D-Channerz
Summary: A glimpse into the early stages of Muraki and Oriya's odd friendship...


**Title:** Layers  
**Rating:** Um... PG? I don't know.  
**Series:** Yami no Matsuei (sheepish glance)  
**Characters:** Oriya, Muraki  
**Warnings:** OOC... Ugh...  
**A/N:** This fic was written on the spur of the moment. Well... not really. I've actually been working on it for a while now, but I hadn't gotten the courage to finish until just recently. I was afraid because... well... it's about iMuraki/i, and I'm trying to figure out his personality by figuring out Oriya's. Not an easy task. The whole thing is basically a few blurbs thrown together. Snapshots, if you will. I like doing that. I basically made some stuff up because I know next to nothing about Oriya and Muraki's relationship before the whole Yami no Matsuei thing comes into play (which is when this story/set-of-stories takes place). So keep that in mind if you think something sounds screwy. If it's a glaring error though (meaning it's different somehow from what Matsushita-sensei may have written or something), let me know and I'll fix it.

There's also a possibility for a sequel, but I don't know yet.

**Song of the Moment:** "Regret" - Malice Mizer - This song was on repeat for a good half of the time I was editing this (the remainder of the time was spent listening to tenimyu stuff, but you don't care about that). I still love it, but... I think I may have made myself sick of it. Oops. Oh well. At least you know what to listen to if you need mood music. I think it fits the story pretty well.

Hope you enjoy it.R&R is very much appreciated!

* * *

They didn't meet until a week after school had started, having a brief meeting set up through the friend of a friend of another friend. Oriya almost thought it was fate, the way they happened to pass eachother in the hallway after meeting each other only a few hours before during lunch. He hadn't even _seen_ the other boy until today, and all of a sudden he was everywhere. 

After one month of school, they hardly said more than three words to each other on a daily basis. Oriya had his legions of fans and followers, while Muraki had his studies and medical books to keep him busy. He was popular as well, but he didn't drown himself in it like Oriya did.

The pair were almost polar opposites. In terms of looks, Oriya was the embodiment of classic beauty with his long dark hair, slender form, and sharp aristocratic features. Muraki was obviously much lighter from every angle, though a bit taller and stockier, with shocking platinum blonde hair, and equally mesmerizing characteristics.

Oriya was reserved, yet outspoken enough that people were simply drawn in by his rather vibrant and alluring personality. Muraki also made a curious picture for others to examine, but he never let them. There was something so beautifully unsettling and completely untouchable about him that others had no choice to be hypnotized by his infinite charm and sophistication. He had everyone fooled. And in that way, they were almost one in the same. Oriya had noticed it from the moment they met, but he never really took it to heart until much later.

By two months, they were finally able to exchange more than a polite greeting, although Oriya was usually the one who did most of the talking. It wasn't that Muraki was shy or uninteresting. He simply did not speak unless he was asked to. It was the training of someone who had come from a prestigious family, as most of the students at their academy were. Unfortunately, the vast majority of them weren't as polite or civil as Muraki was.

After three months, Oriya began to notice something. Muraki certainly was different from anyone he'd ever known, but it had never given him cause for concern until now. Walking back from an after school function, they'd decided they were thirsty, and seeing as there were no stores in the immediate vicinity, they had gone to look for a vending machine. They found one right down the block, but there appeared to be some sort of accident right across the street, in the middle of the intersection. Traffic was abundant, people having stopped driving to get out of their cars and run over to see what was happening. There were squad cars and a few ambulances, a myriad of flashing lights and confusion. Oriya had only been mildly interested, asking one of the many onlookers at the scene just exactly what had happened.

Someone had run a red light, causing a chain reaction. It was a six car collision, the amount of people hurt in the accident unknown. They were still talking to the concious car passengers who'd managed to get by with mere scratches. Four of the cars were completely bashed in, the one vehicle that had caused the accident was completely unrecognizable. The medical specialists hovered beside it primarily. Oriya squinted as they started to drag the bloodied body of someone from the wreckage, most likely the driver.

Shrugging, he walked back across the street where Muraki was standing and turned to put his money in the machine.

"What kind do you want, Muraki?" Oriya began, and didn't even blink when he didn't recieve a response. "I think I'll get the tea."

The drink fell with a 'clang', and he pulled it out. His companion still stood there in silence, watching the happenings going on a few feet away. Oriya sipped quietly, deciding to leave him there. He had more important things to do with his time, after all. But even as he turned and started to walk away, he couldn't help but look back. Once he did so, Muraki finally began moving as well, following him past the accident and down the rest of the block until it was all out of sight.

"Kind of morbid, don't you think?" Oriya asked out of no where.

Muraki smiled slightly. "What was that?"

"You. Standing there, watching like that. I saw the way you looked at them pulling out that body."

"Merely observing. I don't know what else you could be implying by that."

Truthfully, Oriya didn't know either. "If you say so."

They walked on, and then stopped at yet another intersection to part ways. As Oriya waved at him and started to walk the cobblestone path that led to the main house of the Kokakurou, Muraki turned and smiled pleasantly.

"I like the color red."

_The human life is quite a fragile thing, wouldn't you agree?_

It wasn't long after that when Oriya discovered _why_ he liked it so much.  
-------

_"Why do you want to be a doctor?"_

_"My father was a doctor. My grandfather was a doctor. My great grandfather was a doctor."_

_"Etcetera, etcetera."_

_"Yes._

_"I know how that feels. But you honestly don't have a real reason?"_

_"A reason..."_  
-------

Muraki had come over without prior arrangement one evening, much to the surprise of everyone in the house. Still, Oriya hadn't hesitated to let him in, although he supposed it was because he was so desperate for company himself that he hadn't really thought much about _who _it was. Although it became apparent quite quickly that this wasn't a normal visit.

They went straight to Oriya's room, neglecting the dinner that the servants had offered to warm up for the young master's newest friend, and they sat by the doors leading to the garden, one slid open part way so that the sounds of the night drifted into the dimly lit room. The candle on the floor beside them flickered in the light breeze, and Oriya almost could have sworn he saw Muraki's eye twitch a little at that.

They didn't say anything. Oriya was used to long periods of quiet between them, but somehow this one was not the same. It made his senses sharpen, caused his eyes to narrow and look away from his friend's unusual expression, and created an odd sort of feel to everything around them. It was as if he was being tested, probed by the silver eyes gleaming across from him. He was almost afraid to breathe.

An earthy scent, sharp and tingling, wafted under his nose. The rain would come shortly. One both light and refreshing, as most usually were during the early summer season. Its echo and roar was nothing compared to the harsh din inside Oriya's mind. The silence was too strong, deafening. But what could he have said? It was all in the waiting. Waiting for something he hadn't even known he'd wanted.

"Oriya..." Came the soft sigh. It could have been the chirping insects outside for all he knew. But it wasn't.

"Yes?"

Muraki's fists were in his lap as he knelt in the moonlight, hair covering his eyes and obscuring most of his face. It would be one of the only times he'd ever see his best friend so vulnerable looking. "May I speak?"

Oriya didn't dare say a word.

"I used to have a brother." the boy began shakily. "But he wasn't my real brother. He was my stepbrother..."  
-------

_"So why then?"_

_"The human body is fascinating."_

_"Is that all?"_

_"Is that not enough?"  
_-------

The night Oriya turned 16 was when Muraki had his first _real_ taste of alcohol. And on a school night, no less. Oriya remembers it well, seeing as he had been there to help refill his friend's glass the moment he finished a drink.

The large bottle of saké had been stolen from his father's stash as a birthday treat for himself. Muraki had invited himself over before hand, content with staying for dinner, and apparently completely prepared to help his friend with his studies for the exam they would take the very next day. He had no idea that Oriya had other plans.

Surprisingly, the alcohol had made the older boy ill, and Oriya had felt slightly guilty for putting him up to it. But then, how would he have known that Muraki would have taken it so hard his first time? He was sick for the rest of the evening, and right around his sixth or seventh glass, he was curled up on the floor mumbling incoherrently. Most of it had been completely incomprehensible. The rest were things that should have not reached his ears, words that were not meant for him to understand. The boy understood what he was doing, and he stopped halfway through his mindless prattle to choke on the knot in his chest.

Muraki did not cry like normal human beings. It couldn't be called crying at all, really. Oriya wondered if the other boy had ever seen tears that were his own and not someone elses. Surely it was possible that he had, but with Muraki, one could never be sure.

Oriya remembered finishing off the last of the bottle and then simply sitting next to him, expression blank. His presence was simply enough.

The next morning, Oriya had awakened to the sound of bells chiming from across the street. Muraki was staring at him, a mere three feet away, silver eyes reddened and hazy. Oriya gave his friend a sleepy smile, which wasn't returned, but Muraki thanked him for letting him spend the night. The dark haired boy guessed that his head was throbbing far too much for him to think of anything else to say.

"Breakfast?"

"...Yes."

"Pills first?"

"Yes."

Oriya did feel guilty then. And he forced himself to forget a lot of the night had even happened.

But everytime afterwards, Muraki built up his tolerance just a little bit more, until finally Oriya was always the one being dragged or prodded and poked after collapsing to the floor (quite gracefully, mind you) in a drunken stupor. And then Muraki would just chuckle and knock back a few more. He didn't enjoy getting drunk, he would say. He just liked the taste.  
-------

_"You can tell me. Is it to 'better the human race' or something like that?"_

_"Better the human race...?"_

He smiled.

_"You're thinking too small, Mibu-san."_

_"Really."_

_"Let me tell you..."_

_------_

The summer after their final year of high school, Muraki spent extra time at a school in Nagasaki to get extra credits for his first year at the univerisity. Oriya was annoyed, seeing as he would be stuck working at his parent's establishment from now until doomsday. It was the reason he hadn't been all that happy about graduating, although it certainly had been an experience with his best friend at his side. It didn't matter that they'd spent so much time working together, as if Oriya had a future right along with him. Oriya had already known where his life was headed, and sometimes he felt ashamed that Muraki had wasted so much time on him.

Then again, Muraki was already an honor student and far and away smarter than everyone in the academy, so it wasn't as if he was losing anything by sharing it with his more practial and less academically motivated partner. Oriya appreciated it nonetheless, even if Muraki had no idea that he was doing anything one way or the other.

Sometimes, Oriya would wonder what his friend thought of him. Honestly, and truthfully. It was hard to ask, seeing as the other young man would probably give him half an answer. Muraki was good at that.

A month into the vacation period, during the evening after attending a graduation celebration of one of Oriya's many aquaintances, Oriya had thought of asking, but it hadn't come out the way he had planned. Neither of them were intoxicated, although Oriya wondered if they should have been. It might have made things a little less awkward.

"Hey Kaz..."

"Yes?"

"What're you doing tomorrow?"

"Studying. And you?"

"How boring..." Oriya leaned against one of the wooden beams of the porch they were currently sitting on, wishing he had a cigarette. They were disgusting, but they were the next best thing when he didn't have his pipe handy. Muraki on the other hand, had plenty. He reached his hand out to ask for one, and his friend simply handed him one without any words passing between them.

As he inhaled a whiff of nicotine, Muraki spoke again. "What are you doing, Oriya?"

He suspected that the other man didn't really care, he was just speaking through the silence. Although usually Muraki only said something if it was completely necessary. "I don't know yet."

"Working?"

"I said I don't know yet."

"Ah."

Oriya glanced at him. "When will you be done studying?"

"I'm not sure. Whenever I finish going through my material."

"And how long will _that_ take?"

"Why do you want to know?" Muraki asked as he turned his head, raising a hand to his eyes to adjust his glasses. "How do you know you won't be doing something by the time I'm finished?"

"Because I won't be! Why the hell do you have to make it so complicated? I'm not going to see you for the rest of the summer! And after that... who knows."

Muraki didn't reply.

"Unless you just don't want to see me."

Still silence. Oriya rolled his eyes. It was certainly foolish of him to expect anything. He was used to this, or so he told himself. If not now, then he most certainly would be if they continued to remain as "close" as they were.

What did it mean to be friends with someone who never truly acknowledged that their friendship existed? How could he say that he had any feelings for this person when he wasn't sure the other _had_ feelings for anything at all? He hated to admit this to anyone, especially himself, but being friends with Muraki was a struggle. He liked challenges, but this was one that he knew he could never win. Yet somehow, he couldn't find it in himself to do anything about it.

Perhaps he was a masochist...

It was rather sudden when Muraki reached over to pluck the cigarette from his fingers and bring it to his own lips. He looked on, entranced as Muraki took a long drag, holding it for a moment, and then releasing it in a one smooth rush of breath. He watched long pale fingers hold the cigarette lazily before passing it back to him. Compared to Oriya's own hands, which were scarred in some areas and calloused from holding many a sword, Muraki's were larger but still graceful and just as practiced and perfect as the rest of him. The way he moved... It was like watching an apparition, fleeting and transparent. Unlike anything he'd ever seen or experienced.

Muraki could be called beautiful, if Oriya had such things in mind. He only knew what was behind that striking and icy gaze, and that couldn't be called lovely in any context.

His friend was now staring back at him, rather pointedly. "Something wrong, Oriya?"

Oriya straighted and tossed the half smoked cigarette to the ground. "No. I'm coming over tomorrow."

"I'll be gone." Muraki replied. _But I might come back if you still decide to show up._

He would never say those words aloud, but Oriya somehow knew they were still real. He had been wrong to think otherwise. He found himself smirking as he looked out past the porch steps and off into nothingness.  
-------

_"You don't know me."_

_"You're right. I don't."_

_"Are you curious?"_

_"I don't know if I really should be, but yes."_

_"You're an interesting fellow, Mibu-san."_

_"I try. Muraki?"_

_"Yes?"_

_"Why do you like the color red?"  
_-------

A full moon. A red one. He couldn't remember ever having seen such a thing, although he'd heard stories. A red moon was an omen, or so he'd been told. The air was thick and laced with some heady fragrance. Could it have been the beauty of the sakura blossoms, or the sweet zephyr passing by, that caused him to look to the night sky and remember things that should not have been recalled? It made him smile a little as he watched the moon's reflection flicker in the koi pond in front of him.

_What sort of omen?_

He wondered if he could pray for a miracle. But he wasn't stupid or an advocate for wishful thinking. There was no redemption in the blood color of the moon, nor anywhere else. He'd accepted that long ago.

An omen, they said.

This night was different. This night would be remembered.

Good or bad, he did not know. Muraki, perhaps, would be able to tell him. Where ever the other man was, Oriya would keep his eyes open. It was all in the waiting.

_"We are beautiful, bathed in a sea of our own blood..."  
_-------

owari  
--

**A/N:** Err... yeah. I don't know, I guess I kind of like their weird friendship. It seemed really onesided while watching the anime (haven't read the manga in a while), but I'm a firm believer in Muraki having some emotion underneath that insane, perverted, and murderous exterior. I know you'll probably disagree with me, but that's fine.

I don't know if it's obvious or not, but the ending is right where the YnM thing starts. At least in terms of Hisoka's side of the story.

So yeah, leave me a review and tell me what you thought. Sankyuu!


End file.
